


Reality Clash

by Aelila



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Reincarnation, What if Petunia had better aim?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelila/pseuds/Aelila
Summary: There are a lot of questions about what happens when you die. Do you go to heaven? Hell? Are you reincarnated instead into flowers and dogs and new human beings? Do you just cease to exist?There are also lots of ideas and suppositions of alternate realities and universes. Is that every time you make a choice the present reality splits off? Is time truly linear, or does it loop back on itself? Can rifts in the space-time continuum truly occur?Lots of heavy questions, some that we may never really know the answers to. In this instance, in this reality, time, death and one’s sense of self are all mixed up. For our entertainment, of course.----------------------------------------------------------------------In some realities, Petunia Dursley has awful aim when it comes to her frying pan. In this reality, her aim is true.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give writing in the Harry Potter fandom a try. I love reading fanfics, and I've always wanted to try my hand at it. This particular idea wouldn't leave my head after about a year of thinking on and off about it. So I have decided to sit my ass down and actually try to write it. I might have possibly seen other fanfics like this before, but I think my spin on it will be entertaining and fresh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Someone wakes up in the hospital, and reality takes a sharp right.

There are a lot of questions about what happens when you die. Do you go to heaven? Hell? Are you reincarnated instead into flowers and dogs and new human beings? Do you just cease to exist?

 

There are also lots of ideas and suppositions of alternate realities and universes. Is that every time you make a choice the present reality splits off? Is time truly linear, or does it loop back on itself? Can rifts in the space-time continuum truly occur?

 

Lots of heavy questions, some that we may never really know the answers to. In this instance, in this reality, time, death and one’s sense of self are all mixed up. For our entertainment, of course.

 

In some timelines, Petunia Dursley has awful aim with a frying pan. In this reality, her aim is true.

 

* * *

 

Nurse Williams watched as her patient’s face became more mobile, eyebrows scrunching together and nose wrinkling as they began to wake. Her patient looked so young, lying there on the hospital bed.

 

“Whu…what happened?” The voice was raspy and somewhat childish. Understandable, as the boy _was_ a child, and had just woken up after being unconscious for a day.

 

“Hello Mr. Potter, I am Nurse Williams. You are at Guy’s Hospital in London. Do you remember what happened to you?” As she spoke, she checked his chart again and then the machines beeping beside his bed. Everything looked fine, though she moved to dim the lights when she saw him wince and squint.

 

“I…” he trailed off as he settled his gaze on his knees, gripping the covers as she raised the bed and helped position the pillows behind him so he could sit comfortably. “…who is that? What happened?”

 

Nurse Williams traded a glance with the mild-looking man who was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, out of the way of the examination that was occurring.

 

“Mr. Potter, I will let Mr. Barry explain while I go and get your doctor. Everything will be fine.” And with that Nurse Williams beat a hasty retreat. The poor dear, having his life flipped around in such a way!

 

Back in the hospital room, Mr. Barry coughed and engaged in a staring contest with the small boy on the bed. After what seemed like an age, but was really a few seconds, Mr. Barry rose from his chair and came to stand by Mr. Potter. Mr. Barry was an average looking man, with brown eyes and hair and faint lines around his eyes and thin lips. He wore a grey suit with a yellow collared shirt underneath and carried a brown briefcase, of which he had left under the chair.

 

“Mr. Potter, my name is Mr. Barry. I will explain what has led us to this point and then I will try my best to answer any questions you may have. Before we begin, I will say that I am sorry that things have gotten to this point and that I will try my best to help you and I will be keeping your welfare in mind.” Mr. Barry waited for Harry to acknowledge his words, receiving for his efforts only a bewildered look from the young boy.

 

“Well, yesterday in the afternoon you were transported to this hospital after receiving a blow to the head from a frying pan wielded by your Aunt. A neighbour happened to witness the incident and called 999. The ambulance and the police arrived at the same time, and your Aunt was taken into custody while you were taken to the hospital. After questioning your Aunt, your cousin and your neighbour, and taking into consideration your state of being, the family court has appointed me as your guardian for the interim. Your uncle would have been considered, but when he was told about what had occurred…well, his reaction was unseemly, and it was decided that it was better that he not have any ability to make decisions on the behalf of your welfare.”

 

At this point in his monologue, Mr. Barry checked to see if the boy was following along. The child looked slightly overwhelmed with the information but managed to tilt his head slightly at the pause. Taking it to mean that he should go on, and not wanting the young boy to move his head too much, Mr. Barry with a small nod continued explaining what had occurred to his young charge.

 

“You were unconscious from the time the ambulance came till today. The doctor has told me that they have given you several tests and concluded that you have a mild concussion, and luckily no internal bleeding, but you probably can feel that bump on your forehead, it’s a bit bruised. We’ll let the doctor examine you, but hopefully, you will just need some rest to get better.”

 

Mr. Barry stopped speaking then, and the room became silent once more. His young charge seemed to be thinking over Mr. Barry’s words, his hands sporadically smoothing out the blankets laid over his knees. Finally, he looked up at his temporary guardian, a tight look caused by pain or the concern of the unknown settled on his skinny face.

 

“Will I have to go back to Aunt Petunia after all of this?” His voice was quiet, a slight anxiousness revealed in the wavering of his voice when saying his Aunt’s name.

 

Before Mr. Barry could answer, a knock was heard on the door. The door opened soon afterwards and a doctor stepped through the door, a clipboard his hands and a harried look on his face.

 

“Sorry for taking so long, Mr. Potter was it? I am Doctor Bradford. I just want to know, considering the situation, if you would like Mr. Barry here as I examine you, or if you would like for me to tell him your results afterwards?”

 

Mr. Potter looked away from Mr. Barry and shrugged his shoulders. “Err…you can tell him afterwards, I guess.”

 

Mr. Barry gathered his suitcase from under the chair. “That’s quite alright, I will be just outside working on these forms here. We will talk later after you get some rest, and when I have more information for you, if that is alright with you Mr. Potter?”

 

“Alright, I have nowhere else to be anyways.”

 

Mr. Barry smiled at the small amount of personality shown with that answer and moved towards the door. Just before he moved out of sight, he made sure to make eye contact with the boy.

 

“We will do our best for you Mr. Potter, do not worry.”

 

Mr. Potter managed a small smile of his own at the reassurance and turned his head to listen to the doctor as Mr. Barry closed the door behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry Potter was finally left alone in his room. Dr. Bradford’s examination had been quick. He had been worried when Harry had stayed unconscious for so long for no discernible reason, but there had been no internal bleeding and Harry’s skull wasn’t cracked. Dr. Bradford wanted to do a few more tests just to make sure everything was okay, but he believed that Harry was on the mend and only had a mild concussion. The hospital would keep Harry overnight, run the tests in the morning, and then if everything checked out well Harry would be left in the care of Mr. Barry.

 

Harry sighed and shifted on the hospital bed, trying to get more comfortable. He was honestly confused. He almost couldn’t believe that Aunt Petunia’s aim had improved so much that she had been able to hit him. He knew he had been taking a risk provoking Dudley, but he didn’t think it would lead to landing himself in the hospital, and Petunia at the police station! What would the neighbours say? She must have taken a leave of her senses to try to hit him in such a public way. The Dursley’s would be the highlight of the gossip reel for the neighbours for days!

 

Knowing that someone had witnessed his Aunt’s attack, he knew that Aunt Petunia couldn’t really hide her actions in this particular case. Yes, the neighbourhood may believe that he was just a hoodlum, but normal people didn’t go around hitting their nephews with heavy frying pans, especially nephews who were just shy of their birthday… _'Mr. Mason and his family would have heard what happened by now; I guess Uncle Vernon is not getting that deal'…_ and with how his family reacted to his presence usually, he understood somewhat that the police would probably suspect that his safety wouldn’t be assured if he went back to the house on Privet Drive.

 

All of that was understandable and explainable, although having been unconscious on his birthday sucked, obviously.

 

What wasn’t explainable, however, was the man named Jon taking residence in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry and Jon (yes, that Jon) have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So posting this real quick. Thanks for the kudos for the first chapter, I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter. I don't really have a set timetable for posting chapters. Basically, I'll post chapters once I'm done writing them. I finished this chapter with a little alcoholic help, so excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes!

It was late at night and Nurse Williams had come to do her last check on Harry before finishing her shift for the night. He had been able to eat his dinner of chicken noodle soup before nodding off. He hadn’t asked too many questions, _'_ _probably still confused, the poor dear,'_ she thought as she pulled his blankets up to his chin. He seemed to be a quiet boy, polite and obedient in following the doctor’s instructions for lots of rest and minimal movement.

 

She checked his chart for the last time, signed it, and then made her way to the door. With one last glance at the small huddle the boy made on the bed, she quietly closed the doors, unaware that it wasn’t sleep that kept her patient silent and unmoving.

 

* * *

 

“Ok, so what you’re saying was that I was you in a past life? But I shouldn’t remember being you, and you’re not even sure that we’re in the same universe or dimension or whatever that you originally came from?”

 

_‘Do you not have reincarnation in this life? In this reality? I know that I have died, although this is not my first death.”_

 

A boy and a young man sat across from each other. The boy, known as Harry Potter to some, just Harry to others, and that _freak_ to his family, was sitting with crossed legs and sporting a look of disbelief on his face. He was also a bit wary; after all his first year as a wizard and learning at Hogwarts had finished with the discovery that his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had been hosting Voldemort at the back of his head for the whole school year. Hearing from his own “visitor” that the two of them shared a soul sounded similar to that creepy and disturbing event.

 

The man, who had introduced himself as Jon, seemed to not take the faint hostility radiating from the child to heart. He sat with his legs stretched in front of himself, leaning back on his hands and with his face turned upwards towards the sun. He wore a serene smile, the few scars littering his face not subtracting from the sense of tranquillity emitting from him. Harry took the chance to look at his surroundings; what else was there to do in this place but talk and look around. The place was bright and warm, with wispy clouds in the sky and a sound of waves off in the distance. The pair sat on a grassy cliffside dotted with daisies, lilies and honeysuckle, violets and the occasional wild strawberry.

 

“What is this place anyway?”

 

‘ _We are in your soul. Our soul.’_

 

“Oh. I’m just the slightest bit confused. How did this even happen? Aunt Petunia couldn’t have hit me _that_ hard?”

 

Jon snorted, directing his stare towards Harry and revealing slate grey eyes now narrowed in thought. Harry too stopped looking around and focused on Jon. He wasn’t sure what was possible when it came to reincarnation and souls; he had only one year as an actual wizard under his belt. Maybe reincarnation was a thing and most wizarding people already knew about it; just one of those things that if you lived in the wizarding world you grew up knowing. Knowing his luck though, Harry thought that his situation was probably unique.

 

_‘I am not sure how to explain. I was slumbering in your soul but a day ago, and then I was…awake for lack of a better term. However, from what I understand we are the same soul but we aren’t the same people. Is not life accumulation of experiences? You will not experience what I have experienced, and I have not experienced what you have, but we still share the same soul.”_

Harry flung his hands out and resisted screaming in frustration. He knew it; he was a freak always, unique in a way that he didn’t want to be. There was too much happening at this point: Aunt Petunia actually getting caught in her abuse of him, having a new guardian, learning that his soul had a passenger that had actually been his soul before in a past life, probably from a different dimension if Jon’s earlier explanation about Westeros was any indication…seriously, having winters for year’s on end? From the little bit about geology and history he had learned in Primary, he didn’t think that had ever occurred on earth when humans were about, though did Ice Ages count? He shook his head before he went further off track. It was time to get some serious answers about what to do now.

 

“That’s all fine and dandy for you, maybe, as your dead. But I’m not, or at least I don’t think I am. Why don’t you go back to sleep then? This is my body, it’s my turn now.”

 

Jon smiled, but it was brief and faded quickly. _‘Truly, that is our dilemma. Do you honestly think I want to be conscious right now? I have had had my life, and I was promised rest.’_ He moved to sit up properly, tucking his legs underneath him and moving his arms in front of himself. His head moved to rest on his hand, suddenly looking weary. _‘I honestly don’t know what to do. This is not the usual way of the soul; while we might be of one soul, we are of two different consciousness. The body can only handle one at a time. If this is the work of your Aunt Petunia’s…frying pan…or the work of the Gods I am unsure. But, yes, we do need to figure out how to resolve this issue.’_

 

Harry sighed long and loud, falling onto his back and star-fishing in the grass. Normally if he had a problem he would talk it out with Ron or Hermione, but they hadn’t been answering his letters. He obviously couldn’t talk about this with his so-called family, and of course, talking about this to other muggles would probably get him sent to a crazy house. And Jon seemed to be older and more experienced than him, but even he didn’t have an answer to this situation.

 

Harry and Jon sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant sound of waves and enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces. Finally, Harry pulled himself up in a sitting position. Time seemed so slow in this place, his soul, but he needed a solution and quickly; he couldn’t stay here for the rest of his life.

 

“So, what do we do now?”

 

‘ _Maybe it is just as simple as you declaring that you are the primary in the usage of this soul. I do not know how to go to sleep, as you say, but also as you have said, I_ am _dead. You are the one living this life at this time, that must mean something. I can’t just take over your body.’_

Harry thought about that. “Okay, you’re the one with the ideas. I can’t think of a different way of doing it. Let’s give it a try.”

 

Harry stood up; Jon did as well. Harry held out his hand, and with a smile, Jon held out his own and met Harry in a handshake. The sun brightened to an almost unbearable degree. With a last burst of sunlight, the view of their soul faded.

 

* * *

 

In the hospital, Harry opened his eyes briefly, still sleepy. It was the middle of the night, and the hospital was quiet. One eye almost looked grey to any possible observer, but a quick second glance showed tired green eyes, bright as grass in the summer. Harry yawned and after rolling over quickly fell back to sleep again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people weigh in on the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy. Comments would also be great ;). Thank you for everyone who has been reading these few chapters and leaving kudos and even bookmarking this!

Dobby didn’t know what to do. Harry Potter was no longer at his home. He had waited and waited in Harry Potter’s bedroom to warn him about You-Know-Who, but he hadn’t shown. And then he heard that loud-fat man yelling about Harry Potter being in the hospital. Harry Potter was hurt!  He could follow Harry Potter’s signature to the hospital, but it was most likely a muggle hospital, and he didn’t know if his magic would have a negative effect there.

 

He couldn’t tell his no-good masters, they would hurt Harry Potter. Maybe though it was a good thing? If Harry Potter was in the hospital, then Harry Potter was not going to Hogwarts. He would continue to stop any mail from getting to Harry Potter, and maybe then Harry Potter would be safe from bad master’s evil plan!

 

Dobby nodded his head, slammed his ears in the bedroom door for thinking that his masters were evil, even if it was true, and popped his way back to Malfoy Manor. He would come up with some backup plans just in case Harry Potter found a way to Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

 

Mrs. Beverly, from Number 3 Privet Drive, closed the door on the last of the neighbours who had come over for tea and gossip. Heaving a big sigh, she moved to sweep up the crumbs and straighten the pillows on her couch. Normally Deborah would only have one or two of the neighbourhood girls over for tea and some silly talk once or twice a week, but her doorbell had been ringing non-stop since yesterday afternoon. As the only witness to Petunia hitting her nephew, she was finally in a spot that she had worked years to get: she was finally the most popular woman in the neighbourhood! It was somewhat sad however that her new popularity came at the expense of her friend Petunia.

 

Petunia was someone that Deborah looked up to. While she wouldn’t say that they were best friends, ‘ _no that would be so presumptuous!’_ She was, however, good friends with the slightly older woman. Why wouldn't she want to be friends with her? Petunia had a beautiful house, with a wonderful garden, a husband that was pretty high up at his job and doing well from what the gossip said and had a gift of a rambunctious son. Even with the only dark spot in Petunia’s life being that untidy, rude nephew of hers, the one that apparently went to a criminal school or something of that sort, Petunia handled with grace. She kept the boy busy enough that he didn’t have any time to get into any mischief.

 

Even with there being something wrong with that boy, though, didn’t mean that she approved of Petunia hitting him with a frying pan. Who knew that Petunia had such an arm on her! She did not approve of corporal punishment, and she knew what could happen if someone was hit in the head like that. Her own brother, God rest his soul, had been hit by a falling beam when playing at the docks in her neighbourhood city when they had been small children. She had never forgotten the way he had fallen, straight to the ground. He had never woken up again.

 

So, Deborah drew a line at actually hitting that nuisance of a boy. She thought that there must have been a better way of managing the boy. It certainly wasn’t graceful or elegant to actually hit someone, even if he had said something to upset Petunia. It just wasn’t the done thing to do.  Well, Deborah would look at the silver lining to this whole incident; she finally had the scoop over Petunia. Maybe now she would be invited to the Community Garden Group Mrs. Walden at Number 7 Private Drive hosted bimonthly!

 

* * *

 

Mr. Richard Barry arrived back at Guy’s hospital early in the morning. He had left Harry’s side as soon as he had fallen asleep, to finish up some paperwork at his flat and to get some much-needed shut-eye. His new charge would be leaving today if everything went well, and he wanted to lay some ground rules as well as try to learn about Harry. Richard couldn’t help but frown at the thought of Harry; he had seemed so small lying under the covers when he had left. Richard couldn’t help but feel that Harry had gone through some hard times in the house of his Aunt.

 

The reports from the initial investigations did not paint a good light on Harry’s living situation. The room that he slept in was full of rubbish; the furniture was old and somewhat broken down. He didn’t seem to own any clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs of his cousin. He only had the bare bones of necessities in his room. It didn’t match with the expensive looking furniture, clothes, and excess in all the other inhabitants of the Number 4 Privet Drive seemed to have. Even the extra bedroom was well stocked compared to Harry’s room. Richard thought that the police officers would probably get a warrant to check out the rest of the house and see what else came up.

 

Harry’s family certainly didn’t help themselves. The aunt, after first screaming at the police officers about that “freak boy” refused to say anything without a lawyer present. The uncle, however, was another matter entirely. Vernon Dursley had plenty to say about Harry Potter, none of them polite or loving words. He had refused to take any responsibility of Harry, saying that he deserved whatever his wife did to him. Even Harry's cousin didn’t seem to care what happened to Harry. When they had brought the boy, Dudley, to the precinct when Mr. Dursley had demanded it, his only words had been to ask if he would get to have dessert on time. ‘ _A waste a flesh that whole family_ ,’ Richard thought.

 

For now, it seemed that Harry would be under his care until he went to school in the Fall. Mr. Dursley had said that Harry attended St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, but after checking with the school, he could say truthfully that Harry did _not_ attend there. As well, Harry didn’t actually have a criminal record of any sort. So, while it definitely wasn’t a priority right this instant to figure out what school he went to, Richard did need to find out at some point before classes began as he would need to let them know about the change in guardianship. And honestly, he wondered why the Dursley family even kept Harry for as long as they did, as they could have claimed that they couldn’t take care of Harry and have sent him to some sort of care-home or group home. There wasn’t any paperwork either for when care of Harry would have been transferred over from Harry’s parents to Petunia and Vernon Dursley. They had sent in paperwork from around the time Harry turned four, probably in preparation for when Harry would start Primary school; it was somewhat strange that it had taken them that long to do so though.

 

Honestly, there were a lot of questions surrounding Harry Potter, but in no way did it mean that he should have been attacked like that in his own home by his Aunt. Richard promised himself that he would do the best he could to take care of Harry and to tackle any issues that came his way about Harry to the best of his abilities. Though he would need to ring up his mum and let her know that she had a possible foster-grandchild on the way. He had already let his wife know, and she was already a whirlwind of activity, dusting the extra room and making a veritable feast for when Harry got home.

 

***

 

Petunia refused to look up from the table. The house was finally quiet as her dear Dudley had left after breakfast to go and play with some of his friends. Vernon had left already, heading to work in a good mood, even whistling! He was as happy as she was that the freak was out of the house and out of their hands, hopefully. The police had allowed her to go yesterday evening after her husband had paid the bail money. While it was embarrassing that she had been caught punishing the boy, she did enjoy the fact that he was no longer in the house.

 

She traced the designs on her teacup as the clock continued to tick in the otherwise silent house. Her hands were shaky; why were they shaking? She was fine. While the boy would no longer be around to make a nuisance of himself and remind her of her perfect, beautiful, wonderful sister that she hated, she would miss his work around the house; she would need to figure out what to do about the garden soon. Her fingers twitched around the cup and she abruptly stood up, her chair wobbling out from her under her as she moved to pace the kitchen before it landed on its side on the floor.

 

The police…what was she thinking, she would have to dust today... the judge had set her court date for some time near the end of August. She would have to check her calendar to get the correct date. And she would have to call a lawyer as well, to take up her case. She would never get over going to jail over paying some type of fine; what would the neighbours say!

 

Finally, she could ignore it no longer. She felt like her thoughts were all over the place. She felt like a different person, ever since this morning. She didn’t like it. Where were these memories coming from? Why was it that when she thought of her son, she thought of this small boy with dark hair whom she called her Sweetrobin, instead of her own Dinky Duddydums? Who was Lysa Arryn? What was going on?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in the hospital. Richard and Harry have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my God, this took forever to write. It was like pulling teeth. I ended up writing several versions of this chapter; each time the dialogue felt forced and fake. Finally, Richard decided to take over and give us a bit of background. I'm just going to post this and then get started on the next chapter. This chapter was supposed to get us moving out of the hospital, but I guess there was more to say then I had originally thought.
> 
> Also sorry if I didn't catch all the tense changes. I had it one way for the Barry's background, and then a more present tense for the hospital.

Richard and Calliope Barry weren’t new to fostering. They had always wanted to fill their home with children. They had a daughter, Julie, but they had never been able to have any more children besides her. Julie had been the first baby that had survived the first few months of being born. After Julie, they had tried one more time, but Calliope had miscarried early into her pregnancy. They had decided after that to stop trying. That didn’t mean that they didn’t have any more room in their hearts for someone else; they would've loved to have more children if possible. Calliope, with her love of children, had decided to work as a child care’s assistant, moving her way up quickly to being a children’s program supervisor at a children’s centre for about a seven or so years in Manchester, before they had decided to move back to London after Richard had finished gaining his LLB from the Victoria University of Manchester. Richard had wanted to do his LPC and BPTC in London; it was where they had first met, and he knew that Calliope had wanted to be closer geographically to her elderly aunt who had raised her. It hadn’t hurt that she had been offered a job starting up a new branch of her company’s children’s centre in London around the same time.

 

So, with that good timing, the Barry’s had moved back to London. Julie had been around six at the time, and she cried the whole way from Manchester to London once she had learnt that she wouldn’t be seeing the friends she had made in reception anymore. That had quickly stopped once she had seen that her room in the new house was bigger than her old one in the townhouse they had left behind. As well, Richard believed that the new teddy bear they had gotten for her had helped smooth things over as well.

 

Even with the new work for the Barry’s and with the whole mess of unpacking and arranging things in the house, and getting Julie set up at her new primary school and driving her to ballet class and signing her up for football practice… even with how busy their life in London was, they still wanted to help out and foster someone if they could. Calliope already had the certificate needed, as she had gained it through work. Richard had been able to get his training done quickly, and then they had been assigned a social worker, one cheery and bubbly Rosemary Stewart. Once they were qualified and had explained what they were doing to their inquisitive daughter, they had opened their home up for those young ones that had needed shelter. They had had mostly short-term fosters who lived with them for at most half-a-year. Julie had had a fun time acting as a younger sister, and then when she had grown older, acting as an older sister to the small children they would sometimes foster, or as a friend to those close to her in age. She still, in fact, talked to a few of the foster’s, and the Barry’s had made it a point to at least send birthday and Christmas cards to the foster children that lived with them, even if the time had been short.

 

But when their social worker had asked them a few days ago to take on Harry Potter as a short-term foster, something had made Calliope say that they would be happy to take him on for longer; as in, for as long as he wanted to stay with them. Not to say that they couldn’t do it, they definitely had the space. Julie was out of the house now, attending the University College London and majoring in both English and History. They were both was so proud of her; she had set her eyes on gaining a Ph.D. in Library Sciences and she was working hard on her undergrad to get there. However, she had wanted to be closer to the school and she had said dealing with the train sometimes especially at night was annoying. And so, she had moved into a flat with two of her friends who were also attending the university, and while she made time to come and visit her parents when she could, she was a busy woman with friends living in London proper. They didn’t see her as much as they wanted to. With her out of the house though, they had two free bedrooms.

 

And while they wouldn’t touch Julie’s room, the second bedroom had always been for their fosters. Calliope had told Richard to go and see what they could do for Harry, and Richard was glad he had listened to her. Seeing such a small boy unmoving and pale, unconscious on that hospital bed; with a quickly darkening forehead due to bruising that showcased where his aunt had hit him, had done things to Richard’s heart. It didn’t get any better seeing the evidence of families not treating their children or those under their care right. When Richard had headed home for a change of clothes and to say hello to his wife in the early morning hours, he had told Calliope that he agreed with her, and left her to the tidying up of extra room, now to be Harry’s.

 

* * *

 

Richard thought that Harry would appreciate knowing what was going to happen to him and what exactly was going on with his aunt and the rest of his relatives. He had arrived back in the hospital a few minutes before Harry woke up. He gave him a minute or two to fully wake up and then asked if Harry would like for him to leave the room to give him time to freshen up. Richard wanted Harry to feel somewhat in control, and to show that he would take Harry’s preferences into consideration and not just disregard Harry like Richard believed his aunt and uncle probably did regularly. The boy nodded shyly, and so Richard left the room to get some breakfast for the pre-teen.

 

Richard could tell that Harry was wary of him, and the situation he had found himself in. Who wouldn’t be in they found themselves in the same situation? He seemed to be a mostly self-contained boy, and he could see that Harry was still somewhat in pain from getting hit by his aunt. From the information Rosemary had been able to give him, Harry had been at least neglected by the Dursley’s, and treated lesser than as evidenced by the poor quality of clothes and furniture in Harry’s room compared to the Dursley’s. He had probably learnt while growing up to fend for himself, and that he could only rely on himself. Richard hoped that he and his wife would be a positive change for the boy, where Harry could trust that there were some adults out there that meant him well and had his well-being in the forefront of their minds.

 

When he returned with some porridge and apple juice, Harry was sitting on the hospital, looking like he was lost in thought. After arranging the breakfast tray on the bed, and making sure that Harry was comfortable, Richard headed back to the visitor’s chair in the room, wondering why hospitals always seemed to have uncomfortable chairs. Maybe they took all the comfortable ones for the staff rooms.

 

“Well, Harry, I know that things may have been confusing yesterday. I am here to help; right now, and for the conceivable future, I am your guardian. From what I know, your family didn’t treat you the way they should; that’s on them, and not on you. You might not believe me right now, but that is the truth of it.”

 

Harry blushed furiously and dropped his gaze back to the breakfast tray. He was currently picking at his breakfast; Richard wondered if that was because he didn’t like the meal, or because he couldn’t eat due to pain, or maybe he just felt embarrassment from what he had just said. After a few silent seconds, Richard leant forward on the chair, bringing his arms onto his thighs and crossing his hands under his chin.

 

“May I call you Harry?” Harry still avoided eye contact but gave a shallow nod. “Alright, thank you, Harry. As I’ve said yesterday, my name is Mr. Barry. Richard is my given name, and you can call me that if you are comfortable with it, otherwise Mr. Barry is also fine.”

 

“My wife, Calliope, and I have been foster parents for about fourteen years. My wife and I live in Richmond, not too far from here, about an hour. We have a daughter, Julie. She’s twenty-one and attending university; she doesn’t live at home but she does visit from time to time. She and my wife will be happy to meet you. My wife enjoys taking care of children; she’s worked with children and young people at a few children’s centres; she has been doing that for about, oh, twenty years or so. She is very excited to welcome you into our home. Don’t think that we are going out of our way to do this, we both think that you might enjoy living with us and we very much want you at our home.”

 

That blush was not going down anytime soon it seemed, but Richard wanted Harry to know that he wasn’t a burden to the Barry family and that he was a welcome addition. Richard gave Harry a minute to think on his words, recognizing that this was probably an unusual situation for Harry. He didn’t want Harry to feel uncomfortable, and so let him know about the tests that Dr. Bradford wanted to run on Harry, and then explained about the check-out process. He let Harry know that he wasn’t going back to the Dursley’s until after his aunt’s court case. He didn’t think that the boy would be going back with to the Dursley's anyways, as there were some discrepancies with how Harry had ended up with the Dursley’s in the first place. As well, Richard let Harry know that the way Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had reacted when it came to him was throwing up red flags all over the place.

 

The court case was tentatively set for the end of August, though it might be pushed back if more evidence came in of any abuse. Harry looked wide-eyed at that bit of information, pushing the tray away from himself and biting his lip. He looked like he was struggling to say something.

 

“What is it, Harry?”

 

“Well…er…well the Dursley’s definitely don’t want me, and honestly I don’t want them either. But Aunt Petunia really loves Dudley. And, I don’t know, I’m pretty sure if they keep looking they’ll find some…things. But I don’t know if I really want her going to jail.”

 

While it was nice to see that Harry wasn't a vindictive person, it was worrying that he was sure that if they looked a little closer they would find things that would probably make this case more serious. However much he believed that the aunt and uncle should be sent to jail, with Dudley possibly getting some help and getting some training so that he would lose some weight, Richard had to keep Harry’s wishes in mind too. A more serious trail would also mean a much longer trail that Harry would be dragged through. Right now this was an isolated case of assault. While the assaulter was family, it was an open-and-shut case. There were hints of neglect, but if Dursley’s lawyered up with a good lawyer, it might make things difficult. Not that Richard believed that the Dursley’s would get away with whatever had been going on in that house on Privet Drive if Harry and the police dug in and tried to bump up the case to child abuse, but it was something to consider.

 

“Alright, Harry. I’ll let your social worker know; she is the one that is coordinating with the police right now. Which, by the way, they will want your statement sometime soon, but I believe that Ms. Stewart wants to give you a chance to settle in first. I’ll make sure to keep you updated as things unfold. I want you to focus on healing and then having a more restful and relaxing summer.”

 

Harry nodded, looking thoughtful again. He slowly finished his porridge, asking a few questions about the house that Richard lived in and the neighbourhood, and about Julie. A few minutes after finishing his oatmeal, Dr. Bradford stepped into the room and asked if his patient was ready for testing so that he could get out of here. Harry replied with an eager yes, which Richard laughed at, and the room became a whirl of activity as a few nurses came into the room to help get the bed ready to move. As the group left the room, Richard hoped that Harry would begin to have a better time now that he was out of his aunt’s influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LLB: Legum Baccalaureus; an undergraduate bachelor degree which students can take as soon as they leave school at 18.  
> LPC: The Legal Practice Course; a postgraduate diploma in Legal Practice, usually gained through practical work experience.  
> BPTC: The Bar Professional Training Course; a postgraduate course which allows law graduates to be named and practise as barristers in England.
> 
> As I was avoiding the pain of writing this chapter, I did some research into post-secondary schooling in the UK. I fell down that rabbit hole as I looked up what you needed to be a lawyer, and to be a librarian (which by the way you can't just up and do it, there is a shit-ton of schooling that you need to do, and you also have to be good at talking to people and making connections and networking...it's a lot of work and kudos to those who do it!) in the UK. 
> 
> I also looked up what the court system is like in the UK, for future chapters, and what exactly Petunia would be charged with. I kind of fudged up a little letting her out on bail, but I decided that in the end, (because I don't want to go back and change anything), that it actually worked okay. She is known around the neighbourhood as a good neighbour who is taking care of that "dreadful boy" and she hasn't gotten into any trouble with the law before. Taking that into consideration, the fact that there was no blood and that she has a son probably helped in getting her out on bail. Though I am still deciding on how exactly I want this trial to go, she could also still end up being arrested again and sent to lockup until her trial. Same with Vernon if the police decide to charge both of them with child abuse. Lots to think about. But I do have a timeline for maybe a third of this fic, so don't worry; now that I have gotten past this hurdle of a chapter, things should be smoother, though I'm still not going to commit to an unploading schedule at the mo'.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please let me what you thought of this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally move out of the hospital, and Harry gets to see his new home.

Harry kicked his feet in the wheelchair, humming to himself. If all the tests came back okay, he would finally be able to get out of this hospital! And, alright, he would be going home with Mr. Barry and then right back into a bed probably, as Dr. Bradford wanted him to take it easy. That meant no watching TV or bright lights, and no strenuous movements for a week. It might sound torturous to some, but for Harry, it sounded like a vacation. He hadn’t been allowed to watch the telly really in the Dursley’s house, so he wouldn’t really miss it. And no chores for a week? Awesome! Though he would need to ask if he was allowed to read, to stave off the boredom otherwise.

 

He was slightly worried that something would have shown up on the test Dr. Bradford had wanted to run, with Jon being in his head and all. He wouldn’t know anything was wrong until the doctor showed, and if there was an issue, he’d have to deal with it then. Jon was trying to help keep him calm by sharing stories about his family; they were pretty interesting to listen to, and it was helping to keep him distracted from his worries a little.

 

Mr. Barry had been in his room when he had woken up in the morning like he had said he would be the night before. He had talked to him about the check-out process, and then explained in more detail what would be happening to him. So, he was to go home with Mr. Barry for at least the summer. He definitely wasn’t going back to the Dursley’s until after Aunt Petunia’s court case. Mr. Barry didn’t think that he would be going back with them anyway, as there were some discrepancies with how Harry had ended up with the Dursley’s in the first place. Harry had to bite his tongue to not mention what he had learned about Professor Dumbledore’s actions in placing Harry with his Aunt. As well, Mr. Barry mentioned that the way Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had reacted when it came to him was throwing up red flags all over the place.

 

Mr. Barry said that he would have more information for Harry once things unfolded a bit more, but that he wanted him to focus on healing and then having fun for the rest of the summer. Harry was a bit dubious that Mr. Barry would actually keep him in the loop; from what he had experienced adults didn’t really think of children as actual human beings that could think and have actual preferences and feelings, but so far Mr. Barry had been true to his word, so he would see. In the back of his head, he could feel Jon’s agreement with his thoughts.

 

Harry shook himself out of those thoughts with the return of Dr. Bradford. Mr. Barry straightened up from leaning on the wall at the doctor’s appearance. The doctor himself smiled at the pair.

 

“All good news. Mr. Potter, you’ll be happy to hear that you get to get out of here. I don’t want to be seeing you anytime soon! Luckily you only had a mild concussion, so that means no strenuous activity, no television for a week, and if you do read it must be for short periods at a time. No standing outside in the bright sun for a few days as well.”

 

Harry let out a sigh of relief at the news while Mr. Barry moved closer to Harry, placing a hand on one of the wheelchair’s handles, sharing a small smile with Harry. Mr. Barry then looked towards the doctor and asked if there were any follow-up appointments that needed to be made. As the group made their way to the check-out desk Harry allowed himself to relax back into the wheelchair. He was nervous about what his life would look like going forward. While he might not be living at Privet Drive at least for the summer, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be heading back to live with aunt and uncle once he returned from Hogwarts. After all, Professor Dumbledore had been able to leave him at Privet Drive in the first place with no one making a fuss. Though maybe now that social services was involved, that wouldn’t be the case anymore? One could hope anyway.

 

* * *

 

As Mr. Barry pulled up to his house in Richmond, Harry got his first look at his new place of residence. The home was a semi-detached house, made out of warm red bricks and sporting a cheery looking front garden full of climbers, daisies, honeysuckle, peonies and lavender. There was a three-step staircase leading up to the front door, and to the side of it was a small wooden sign painted black with white lettering that said “The Barry’s” in cursive script. The windows on the first floor were thrown open, possibly to let in some fresh air. Harry could see a flash of curly blond hair before the front door was thrown open.

 

The smiling woman, whom Harry was guessing was Mrs. Barry, was a somewhat short woman; she was still taller than himself, but not by much. She had short curly blond hair that was choppily cut right below her jawline, and she had dark blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He was reminded of Lavender somewhat. She was wearing a long skirt with a flowy top and an off-white apron over the clothes. She tucked a towel into the front pockets of the apron while descending the steps and making her way to Harry’s side of the car. Mr. Barry quickly opened the door and moved to help Harry open his door and make his way outside. At that point, Mrs. Barry was right by Mr. Barry side; she gave her husband a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before turning her gaze onto Harry himself.

 

“Hello husband of mine; introduce me to our new ward.” Her voice was deeper than Harry was expecting; smooth, unhurried, and pleasing to the ear. Mr. Barry chuckled and with a smile pulled his wife into a side hug.

 

“Harry, this is my wife Calliope Barry. Calliope, this is our new foster, Mr. Harry Potter. We hope that you will be safe and happy in our home.”

 

Harry ducked his head, feeling suddenly shy at the words. Mr. and Mrs. Barry seemed a happy, demonstrative couple, and with them both smiling at him like they were, actually looking happy for him to be there, made him cautiously hopeful and yet also made him even more nervous. Why were they doing this, helping him?

 

“Well now ducky let's go and get you settled. You are still recovering from that concussion, you need to be lying down.” Mrs. Barry left her husband’s side to guide Harry into the house, with Mr. Barry following them at a more leisurely pace.

 

“Richard here will be heading out in a little bit to get some of your things from those…Dursley’s…so you will have your things here soon. Unfortunately, the police weren’t able to get anything together for you quickly, but your social services’ contact with the ACPC will help and make sure you get all your things from your aunt and uncle. I’m sure that you are tired of wearing those clothes from the hospital, we have some clothes that I’m sure you’d like better.”

 

Harry felt mildly impressed; he didn’t think she had taken a breath during the torrent of words, and he didn’t think she was anywhere done talking. As they moved into the house, he got the impression of cheeriness and openness. The walls were painted a sunny yellow once they were past the front hall; he could see the wooden staircase leading the upper levels, and he caught a glance of the kitchen, which has mint green walls and pots and pans hanging off of hooks. He didn’t get to see much after that as Mrs. Barry ushered him towards the stairs, and to where he supposed his room was located.

 

“We’ll give you the tour once you’ve rested a bit. I know that this is all new to you and may be overwhelming, but I hope that you come to enjoy living here! I aired out your room for you, maybe sometime later this month we can go do some shopping for new bedsheets and some knickknacks and things. We want this place to be your home too. But I’m talking too much; don’t mind me, I seem to talk a lot more when I’m nervous!”

 

 That surprised Harry. “Why are _you_ nervous!” he blurted out and then blushed for actually saying it. All Mrs. Barry did, though, was smile and nod, lifting a hand to run through her hair.

 

“Yes dear, we might foster from time to time, but that is usually short-term. I believe that you’ll be staying with for much longer. You’ve had an awful time of it, and I want you to relax and feel happy here.” As she finished talking, they finally reached his new room. Mrs. Barry was kind enough to turn her back to him while opening the door, giving him the time to collect himself.

 

“This is your room; I hope you like it. Now, I would like for you to rest up a bit. I’ll come and get you for lunch in a few hours, but you need rest to heal.” She moved to the bed and picked up a set of comfortable looking clothes, beckoning him into the room. He slowly stepped into the room, not even sure if he was dreaming this whole situation at all. Maybe he was in his room at privet drive, counting down the days till he went back to Hogwarts.

 

“Here are some clothes you can change into. They are much warmer and cozier than what you wearing now.” She passed him the clothes, patting his shoulder on the way back out of the room. “Now rest up ducky, and again welcome. We’ll get to know each other soon.”

 

With those parting words, she gently closed the door. Harry, while still clutching the clothes to his chest, felt a little overwhelmed and somewhat grateful that she had left him alone for a bit. While he was thankful to the Barry’s, he wasn’t sure what to think about this whole situation. Somehow, he had gone from dreading his days at Privet Drive to all this upheaval and change. He apparently wasn’t going to return to the Dursley’s if Mr. and Mrs. Barry had anything to say about it. He was getting some new things, and the Barry’s wanted him to feel at home here. They wanted to help.

 

No one had ever wanted to help him; no one had cared if he was happy or not. Even in Hogwarts, he ended up having to look after himself and take care of things himself. He had thought he had made good friends at Hogwarts, but he hadn’t heard from them all summer, even when he had sent them several letters. Eventually, he had gotten the message and stopped trying. Being attacked by his aunt, the one person who should’ve acted like family to him and yet loathed his very being was just another confirmation that he was on his own. And yet Mr. and Mrs. Barry was taking him into their home and trying to make him feel wanted. They didn’t have to; they didn’t even know him, and yet they were going out of their way to help him. With everything that was going on in his life; Hogwarts and being the boy-who-lived, hospital visits and no one answering his letters, Jon…

 

Sitting down on the bed, which felt very comfortable, Harry started to believe that maybe he would have a good summer after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACPC: Area Protection Protection Committee
> 
> Well, we are finally out of the hospital. I don't know why writing the transition parts are always so difficult for me. I usually just want to have things fade out to black and then start on the next plot point, but obviously, that wouldn't work very well. This is at least helping me improve on writing the finicky parts that help move a story along. Next chapter we'll finally get to see some reactions of the wizarding kind to Harry no longer living in the house on Privet Drive.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wizarding world finally figures out that Harry has moved. The question is, where?

Ron Weasley glanced at his older brothers, Fred and George, as they neared Privet Drive in their dad’s enchanted Ford Anglia. While his dad had a weird obsession with muggle things, for once it turned out to be pretty cool. He was actually sitting in a flying car! Normally he would be happy with the experience, but his worry for his best friend Harry Potter was overshadowing any enjoyment he would have gotten out of the clandestine night flight. He hadn’t heard from Harry since the start of their summer vacation from their first year of Hogwarts. He had sent his friend lots of letters, but Harry hadn’t replied to a single one.

 

Normally he would’ve thought that Harry for some reason was ignoring him, but he could only keep thinking on how Harry would never talk about his family when he was in Hogwarts. He remembered that they had only sent Harry that 50-pence piece for Christmas; he had learnt later from Hermione that it wasn’t a lot, and that the postage to send that “present” would have costed more than the actual piece of money. Small things that he had noticed throughout the year, like the state of his friends’ clothes and how tight-lipped he was about his life with his family, all added up to a not-so-great picture and Ron was worried that the Dursley’s were holding Harry’s mail hostage. Harry hadn’t wanted to return to the Dursley’s at the end of the year, and Ron felt like Harry was probably justified in feeling that way.

 

He had convinced Fred and George to help him rescue Harry; they liked Harry too and they weren’t dumb. They had seen for themselves that Harry didn’t seem to know anything about the wizarding world, had seemed to be shocked that he would get presents for Christmas, never talked about his home life, and was small for his age. Hopefully, by rescuing Harry they could keep him at the Burrow for the rest of summer, and Ron could then figure out what was going on with Harry this summer.

 

It was a good plan overall, but they hadn’t accounted for Harry not actually being in the house! In the end, as they flew away from Number 4 Privet Drive with Mr. Dursley waving his fist at them and looking violently red in the face, they tried to hold in their panic. Where was Harry?

 

* * *

 

Molly Weasley, when she was done yelling at her three youngest boys, finally calmed down enough to ask why they had felt the need to steal their father’s car and take it for a thrill ride. They had arrived back at the Burrow just as Arthur had been getting ready to floo into work. He had let her know that whatever punishments she doled out he would stand by. She knew that he knew that he was in for a talking to; an enchanted car that could fly? Really? He had beat a hasty retreat, correctly interpreting the look on her face and leaving his sons to their fate. Anyways, after hearing that they had gone to rescue Harry, why they felt they needed to rescue Harry in the first place, and what they had discovered at his residence, or more like whom they hadn’t discovered, her feelings had flipped from anger to worry.

 

Molly had heard all about Harry from Ron, Fred and George in the past year. She had been surprised to learn that the scruffy, small boy that she had helped get onto the train was actually Harry Potter. She had known Harry’s parents when they had all been in the Order of the Phoenix, even if it was only as acquaintances. She and Arthur were quite a bit older than Lily and James, and she had had her brood of children to worry about. As well, James, Lily and their friends had been so close-knit that it was difficult to become close friends with them, as they seemed to have all the friends they needed already. Having known Harry’s parents however had made her feel somewhat ashamed that she hadn’t truly thought of Harry and how he was doing, besides on Halloween throughout the years. So, finding out that Harry might not have been as well-off as she had believed was a hard pill to swallow. Learning about Harry from the letters her sons had sent her made it feel like he was part of the family to her; she hadn’t had an issue with knitting him a Christmas sweater last year, and she had planned to see if he wanted to come and visit sometime before the start of the school year.

 

But now he wasn’t even in his family’s house, even though Albus had promised that everything was fine with Harry when she had written to him at the beginning of the summer to ask about Harry. This did not seem like things were fine. His family seemed to not know or care where he was! His bedroom had been empty of any items besides a few piles of broken toys and some rickety furniture. There had been no school trunk, or homework, or even Hedwig! And from what she knew from Ron, Harry loved Hedwig and wouldn’t leave her behind if he was going somewhere else for an extended period. So obviously he wasn’t in the house if Hedwig wasn’t there.

 

As she set the boys to degnoming the garden as punishment for taking the car and risking being seen by muggles not-in-the-know, she quickly wrote a note to Arthur about what she had learned. She considered writing to Albus, as he might have some information, but after thinking on it she decided not to. Albus was the one to place Harry in that house in the first place, which was highly irregular now that she really thought about it, and he should already know what was happening when it came to Harry, as he was apparently his magical guardian. If he didn’t know about the situation he didn’t deserve to hear it from her. If he didn’t know, then he was at fault! Though if the situation continued without anyone knowing where Harry was, she would contact him…just not right now. Hopefully, Arthur would know what to do.

 

* * *

 

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do. He had been thinking about getting an early lunch when Errol, with Molly’s note, had landed head over tailfeathers on his desk. Currently, he was resting on Arthurs coat rack; they really needed to save up and get a new owl. Errol really should be retired by now, and spending his last few years relaxing. Arthur shook his head to get himself back on track and to solve this problem. What Molly had said was pretty alarming. How had Harry been moved without anyone being notified?  How long had he been gone from his relatives’ house, and why didn’t Albus seem to know about it? Unless he did know? But no, he had replied to their letter just yesterday, saying that he didn’t think that Harry would be able to visit the Burrow this year, as the supposed blood wards surrounding the Dursley’s home were taking longer to recharge than usual. So, Dumbledore still thought that Harry was in his relative’s house as of yesterday.

 

If he couldn’t trust Dumbledore to actually know what was going on when it came to Harry, he would have to follow the procedures that were in place for any other orphan. He would be careful, however, as he understood Dumbledore’s concerns that Harry could be placed with unsuitable guardians. There were still free Death Eaters that had kept their influential positions in society, as well as their wealth, and could cause trouble for Harry.

 

Arthur sent an interdepartmental memo to the DMLE. Specifically, he sent it to a co-worker in the Magical Child Welfare offices that were housed on those levels. They should have Harry’s files on hand and be able to figure out where to go from there. Also, while the MCW offices were on the same level as the DMLE, it was only because they worked with the Aurors when they had to remove a child from a hostile home or deal with parents committing crimes towards their children. The MCW wasn’t beholden to the DMLE. Their mandate was the health and wellbeing of all underage witches and wizards, and they followed the law. No one, not even the Minister of Magic, could tell them what to do once they had a file set up for their charges.

 

Hopefully, the MCW would quickly take care of finding Harry. If anything, they probably already knew where he was, and the note would just be added to the Harry Potter file. Everything would be fine.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy really wished he had called in sick today. His girlfriend, now fiancé had accepted his proposal on the weekend and they had spent the rest of it celebrating. He had taken the first few days of the week off, in preparation of either celebrating over Laurel saying yes or crying over her saying no and needing a few days to get himself together. Luckily there had been only been happy tears on both sides, and excitement from friends and family.

 

As soon as he walked through the office doors this morning though, it had been like a pack of nifflers had been let loose in the office. It was review season; they had to get all their files together and comb through the data collected both for research purposes and to put together proposals for any possible new laws or revisions to current ones for the Wizengamot session held in October. That meant a few months of the small crew of wizards and witches that were part of the MCW offices running around acting like their heads were on fire.

 

Jeremy hated dealing with his boss, Marianne, during this time period; normally she was okay…well, alright, she wasn’t the nicest person usually, but Jeremy thought that it was all the stress of dealing with all their wards and doing placements and checkups and all that with only ten to fifteen workers working under her. That would be a lot of work. But during this time, she upgraded to an utter cow, snapping people’s heads off and reaming out her underlings. Not a fun time for anyone trying to get their own work done. He had about twenty things to do already, so having a note dropped on top of the pile didn’t make him happy, as it only meant more work for him. Reading the note from Arthur Weasley in the Muggle Misuse Department only caused him more stress and made him want to crawl back under his covers and restart the day.

 

It was the best-kept secret of the MCW, and they hoped that there would never be a day that it would come to light. The secret? There was no Harry Potter file. The knew the general location of Harry Potter, but that was it. There had been no home checks, no instruction for Harry on his future duties as an heir and future Lord of the Ancient and Noble Potter family, no health checks, not even a piece of parchment with his weight, height and blood type on it. All they knew about the boy-who-lived was that he lived in Surrey, somewhere.

 

They had tried to corner Albus Dumbledore, the only one who knew the exact location of the Boy-Who-Lived, to try and get that information, but they only ever got the run-around from him. All they had was his assurance that Harry was happy and safe. Not that they took him at his word, but all the scrying, spells, trying to send him mail and even magically mapping Surrey and therefore narrowing down on Harry’s location all hit dead ends. The mirrors and pools just showed a black background, spells fizzled and died before finishing, all mail was returned to sender, and the parchment, quill and pendent remained stationary and blank. They figured he had been stashed behind some pretty powerful wards for that to happen so consistently, but that didn’t make them feel better. No one could say if he was having a good life or not, or if the people he was with were taking care of him properly or beating the hell out of him every day. No one knew anything. As well, because they didn’t have a file on him, they couldn’t, on his behalf, take down those stupid Harry Potter adventure books, or sue people that used his name without permission, or even try to get his parents wills found, because without that file, they couldn’t legally take any of those steps.

 

Now, though, it seemed that people were starting to get curious about Harry’s location. And if Arthur was right and he was no longer living with…Jeremy double checked the note…living with his aunt and uncle apparently, then _nobody_ currently magical knew where he was. After taking a few minutes to hyperventilate and take a calming potion, a potion that was kept stocked to the max during these trying months, Jeremy took a deep breath and put his problem-solving skills to the test. Alright. He could figure this out. Marianne would kill him and piss on his body if he brought the issue up to her with no semblance of an idea on how to go about fixing it.

 

If Harry Potter was no longer at his aunt’s house, then maybe whatever wards that were keeping him from the MCW’s notice would no longer work. He would set up a scrying session for tomorrow to see if he could get an actual address, and while he while waiting for a timeslot to open up to use the instruments, he would use muggle means and see if there was any chatter from their muggle counterparts about Harry and where he currently was. Because if no one magical knew where was, then the muggles probably had a hand in moving him.

 

With a sharp nod, Jeremy sent off a note to book a time for scrying tomorrow and then moved to grab his bag of muggle clothing. He would be out of the office for the rest of the day, probably, looking for information, so he might as well start now. Hopefully, nothing else would occur that would mess with his chances of finally finding out where Harry Potter was now, and then they could finally get a file started!

 

* * *

 

The blood wards on Number 4 Privet Drive were very complex. They were also very strong and did their best in shielding Harry Potter and those residing in Number 4 Privet Drive from all influences, muggle and magical; harmless or deadly in intent. They had actually stopped two separate attacks on Harry Potter in the earlier years of his residence at the house, from wizards that had stumbled over the boy by luck. Bad luck for them, as they had been turned into a bloody mist with the first dark spell that had left their wands. They were _blood wards_ after all; and yes, they might be illegal but that didn’t change how deadly and strong they were. In fact, they were illegal because of how strong and lethal they could be.

 

Right now, the blood wards, which had stood protecting the Number 4 Privet Drive and its residents for slightly more than a decade, were falling fast. As mentioned earlier, the wards were very complex. But they were also very rigid; specific conditions had to be met to keep the wards running. They would have been much more versatile if Harry Potter’s family had loved him, or even treated him decently to begin with. But they had not, and the wards had degraded in strength and use over the years. Love didn’t actually need to be shared between the residents. That was an added, bonus component that was supposed to help boost the strength of the wards; not actually a requirement to keep the wards running. What they did need was to have Harry James Potter as a confirmed residence of the house. He had to call Number 4 Privet Drive his home.

 

Right now, however, that component was missing. There wasn’t a Harry James Potter calling Number 4 Privet Drive home. It wasn’t because Harry had been removed from the house by muggles; why would a magical ward care what non-magical people did? Harry James Potter still called this residence home, if barely.

 

No, the wards might be called blood wards, but that was because that name was what magical people could understand. It would have been more accurate and truer to call them blood-soul-identity wards. The wards were intrinsically wound tight with the identity of Harry Potter, through his blood, his DNA, his mind and his soul. This had been the case ever since he had been left on the doorstep of the house as a toddler; as soon as Lily Potter, in her desperation to keep her family left to her, her only sister, safe, started building the wards before going into hiding. It had been the case as soon as Albus Dumbledore had let blood fall on the rudimentary wards Lily had left behind and bound them to Harry James Potter.

 

Currently, however, there was no Harry James Potter in the world. There was only HarryJamesPotterJonSnow. Harry James Potter was not equal to HarryJamesPotterJonSnow, the requirements were firm on this. They were similar, yes. They had the same DNA, the same blood, the same mind. But his soul was no longer just his, and so the requirements no longer fit.

 

And so, the wards began to fall.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore finds out.

Albus Dumbledore had an inkling that his day was about to get complicated when the alert on Harry Potter’s home began to go off. The alert was tied to an easily overlooked bronze instrument, shaped like the knight’s chess piece from a chessboard. At first, he had not heard the alarm; it had only let out short, low-pitched beeps that were easily dismissed. Albus was also not paying his instruments any attention; he was arguing with his Deputy Headmistress over the budget allocation for his sherbet lemons. He wanted to up the budget to thirty galleons, instead of the measly ten that it was at now. Minerva was standing firm on being a bully and refused to even listen to his request, insisting that the galleons could be spent elsewhere. Possibly even on some new brooms, after that disaster of a flying class with Neville Longbottom.

 

It was difficult to ignore the alert, however, when the ward alarm suddenly started blaring like a klaxon, before it exploded into a fine bronze mist. Both Albus and Minerva were caught by surprise and could only stare in shock at the fine cloud of particles hanging in the air. The reason for the instrument exploding soon caught up with Dumbledore, and he quickly stood up, wracked with concern and even fear. The only reason for that particular instrument to explode was if the wards on Harry were completely destroyed. He needed to get to Privet Drive right away.

 

“Albus, what just happened?”

 

Albus jumped at Minerva’s voice, having honestly forgotten she was in the room.

 

“I don’t have time to explain; that was the alarm for the wards on Harry’s residence. He must be in danger. Hurry now!”

 

Moving pretty quickly for such an old man, Albus practically sprinted for Fawkes. There was no time to head outside of the castle to get past the anti-apparition wards. Fawkes was already flying to meet his partner. Minerva hurried after Dumbledore, just managing to grab some of Albus’ robes before Fawkes flamed them to Privet Drive.

 

They had a bit of a rough landing, but all seemed to be quiet on the street. No screaming or explosions. In fact, the lights were on in the house; it seemed the family was sitting down for dinner. They were lucky that it was so late at night when they had arrived; no one had seemed to have seen their flashy arrival. As Fawkes flamed back to Hogwarts, Albus strode towards the door of Number 4 Private Drive with ground-eating steps, Minerva scurrying after him, holding onto her witch’s hat to keep it from tumbling off her heat at the quick pace. Albus didn’t bother with knocking on the door; instead, he drew his wand and unlocked it, not even breaking his stride as he stepped through the doorway and made his way into the kitchen.

 

The sight of the Dursley family sitting and eating, seemingly cheerfully, seemed like a strange dissonance to his fears of mayhem and death he had expected. As he stared at the picture before him, the Dursley’s had not noticed their guests yet, he could tell that something was off. Minerva noticed what was wrong first, whispering the question; “Where is Harry?”

 

For all that the question had been a whisper, Petunia somehow has heard the question or had felt their gazes upon herself. Looking up from passing the salad bowl, Petunia almost dropped it instead, her eyes growing wide in surprise. Fury was quick to follow, and she stood abruptly, bringing her husband and son’s attention to their visitors.

 

“What are you doing here?” Petunia practically screeched the question. Vernon was already turning red in the face.

 

“I don’t care, you freaks get out of this house!” Vernon blustered.

 

Minerva was not intimidated. “Obviously we are not going to leave, we came here for a reason. Where is Harry?”

 

Before she could hear an answer or before Vernon could decide to huff and puff his way to possibly a stroke, Albus spoke; his voice was wintery, and his eyes were cold. “Why were we not informed about Harry not being here? I entrusted his care to you, his family. You had a duty towards him, as soon as you allowed him into this house.”

 

Petunia stood straight like a ramrod. “Don’t you tell me about family, about duty and honour! I have _never_ wanted that boy in this house. I know what happened once Lily went oh-so-happily into your world; she was always doing unnatural things and ended up dead because of it. Do you think I wanted my son around that sort of freakishness? Absolutely not!”

 

“I did my duty to my family, to my son, my precious son. Harry Potter no longer lives here, and I would never take him back, even if I could. But good riddance to him. He is no longer my problem!”

 

Silence engulfed the dining room as Petunia almost panted, rage still apparent on her face. Even her husband looked somewhat taken aback, though he quickly came to himself, nodding eagerly at his words. Minerva looked at Petunia with dismay, shocked at her words and what it meant for Harry Potter’s safety.  Albus looked like he was carved from marble. Without another word, Albus spun on his heel and headed out of the room, making his way to the front door. Minerva, a hand at her throat, followed after him, worried for her student and about Albus. She caught up with Albus just past the house. He was shaking now, a deep frown on his face.

 

“She truly hated him.”

 

Minerva couldn’t deny it. Not after what Petunia had just said. That rage on her face…

 

“What were you able to discover about his whereabouts?” Minerva asked gently, taking hold of his shoulders and steering him to a more shadowed part of the street.

 

Albus inhaled sharply, and then slowly let out the air. “I was using legilimency on her, and Minerva…she was arrested a few days ago for assaulting her own nephew. She doesn’t know where he is, and she doesn’t care.”

 

Minerva stood in shock. She had known that the Dursley’s were the worst sort of people, but to actually assault the boy! _And what did you think would happen; you knew they were the worst sort of people, what did you think that actually meant!_ She couldn’t deny that she hadn’t followed the logical conclusion to what it had meant, placing Harry with the Dursley’s even when she had her doubts. She had thought that Petunia would grow to love Harry, maybe, and possibly even come to indulge Harry like Petunia and Vernon over-indulged their son. Harry, even as a baby, had been a loveable child.

 

“That…we need to find Harry.”

 

Albus had at that point pulled himself together. Minerva was right. They still needed to find Harry and figure out where to go from there. The situation was still tenuous for Harry; there were still Death Eaters out there, and Voldemort was obviously still around, as Harry had shown when protecting the philosopher’s stone.

 

Minerva took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Let us head back to Hogwarts, we can regroup and set up a plan to find Harry. Then, we can figure out what to do about the Dursley’s, once Harry is safe with us.”

 

Twin cracks filled the air, sounding like backfiring cars. Privet Drive was silent once again.

 

* * *

 

“We need to contact the MCW and get their information on Harry. They would have a file on him and that would update with his new location.”

 

Albus could feel himself tensing up. How to let her know…

 

“That won’t be possible. The MCW do not have a file on him.” He avoided making eye contact with his deputy headmistress. “The wards that were set on Harry’s home were enacted as soon as Harry was brought into the house when he was a baby. With everything that was going on, we did not have time to stop by at the MCW before heading to his aunt’s house.”

 

“And why did you not at least let the MCW meet you at the house, to at least get Harry’s address and his medical stats? You know the MCW does more than just keep track of where their charges are. You were and still are the head of the Wizengamot, legally you had the duty to make sure that, with Harry as an orphan, that they would be able to start a file for him. That’s their job, to look out for the best interest of their charges.”

 

Albus risked a glance at Minerva, wincing when he accidentally made eye contact with him. She looked furious at him, fire in her eyes and her lips so tense they almost seemed to disappear.

 

“The MCW were supposed to do home checkups, make sure that Harry knew what was happening in the Magical World, especially with him being so famous here. If you had allowed them to do their job, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation that we are in now!”

 

Albus realized that Minerva was telling the truth, but there were extenuating circumstances when concerning Harry Potter.

 

“Don’t forget Minerva, at that point in time we hadn’t rounded up all the death eaters. Why Harry’s own godfather turned out to be a death eater, and his claim would have trumped his Aunts claim. I was worried that if there were any death eaters in the MCW, they would have used their appointed mandate to deal with Harry. If they had decided that Harry was better off with one of their own, then who would be able to change those orders? The ministry does not have a say when it comes to placement for the children under their care.”

 

“That might be true Albus, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t fight legally against a decision if you don’t agree with it. You can take the MCW to court, and with you being Chief Warlock, your word would have had some weight. You made this decision even after I told you that the Dursley’s were the worst sort of people!” At those words, though, Minerva seemed to deflate.  She dropped down into the wooden chairs in front of the desk with a long, drawn-out sigh, seemingly ageing before his eyes.

 

“I can’t put all the blame on you. I never checked up on him myself, and I knew what the Dursley’s were like as well.”

 

Albus gingerly took a seat beside Minerva, eyeing her warily. Albus knew his deputy headmistress; they had known each other for so long now. While she might be placing blame on herself, it didn’t mean that he was absolved of anything. She would most likely be taking his words with a grain of salt from now on. After all, he had been the one to say that Harry was happy and doing well throughout the last few years. If he had truly been checking up on Harry, none of this would have been such a shock. He knew that Harry wouldn’t be growing up in the happiest household, but he had never imagined that Harry’s Aunt could hate an innocent child so much.

 

“Well, this isn’t helping us find Harry.” Minerva nodded in acquiesce, leaning forward in her seat.

 

“Let’s try and see if Harry has sent any messages to his friends about his new whereabouts. If they don’t know, we can try and cast a spell to track him down, though if we don’t have anything of his I’m not sure how successful that will be. If not, possibly an owl would be able to find his location.”

 

This would be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit dialogue heavy, but here it is. Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some shocking information is learned.

Harry was slow to wake. There had been no one banging on his door to wake him, and his head was still throbbing a touch, so he took his time waking up for once. Really, being able to wake up without hearing his Aunt’s shrill voice, or his Uncle blustering about or even Dudley’s whining was honestly a blessing.

 

‘Hi, Jon. Any changes yet?’

 

The first day living with the Barry’s had been a quiet one. Mrs. Barry had fussed over him, not letting him get up to do much. He didn’t complain, as he hadn’t had the strength to _do_ much of anything, feeling tired from all the different emotions he had about his new living situation, as well as from his concussion. Mr. Barry had headed back to his workplace for the rest of the afternoon, so the house had been quiet, and he had ended up sleeping for most of it.

 

When he had finished with his shepherd’s pie last night, Mrs. Barry had merrily suggested that he go back to his room and lie down. Mr. Barry had just smiled and wished him a good night, letting him know that he would go first thing in the morning and get the rest of Harry’s stuff for him. Harry had been glad to hear it; he would have to figure out some way to finish up his homework, and Hedwig would most definitely need to be let out to hunt by now. He did let the Barry's know that he had an owl for a pet; Mr. Barry had looked mildly surprised but promised that he would take care of Hedwig until she was back in Harry’s care. Mrs. Barry looked surprised as well, and then a thoughtful look came over her face; she had then suggested that they would work on a small aviary for Hedwig in the back garden, in case Hedwig wanted more space. Harry didn’t know what to think about the suggestion; he was surprised by how well they were taking having an exotic animal come and live in their house.

 

Harry had gone upstairs, but he hadn’t gone to sleep. In between naps that day, he had spent his time thinking about his situation with his soul-guest. While it was cool that reincarnation was a thing, and even that other dimensions or universes were real, he only wanted to be ordinary. This whole Boy-Who-Lived thing already made him stand out in the wizarding world; if anyone found out about his soul-guest that would be another thing to make him stand out. Jon too wanted to go back to “sleep.” As he sat on his new, and hopefully not just temporary, bed, Harry wondered if Jon could maybe do something like meditate himself to sleep. The stopgap measure that had happened somehow in their shared soul that first night was just that, a stop gap.

 

Jon had said it himself; his body could only handle there being one soul at a time. It had sounded ominous when Jon had first said it, and their condition had not changed. What would happen if Jon didn’t go back to sleep? Would Jon take over? Would his body start to shut down? Would Harry somehow clone himself or something, so that Jon had somewhere to go? And was he the only one that this was happening to? Harry thought it was most likely that he was the only one to have his past-self reawakened; Aunt Petunia’s frying pan probably was the cause of all this. He couldn’t think of any other reason why this would happen. He had lost consciousness, and maybe because of that Jon had been able to wake up and be present.

 

He couldn’t guarantee that he was the only one with a reawakened soul, however unlikely it seemed to him. He couldn’t rule out that all this had happened randomly, just because; or that there could be another reason why this happened, and he didn’t know about yet what it was. So, he had suggested to Jon that maybe if Jon got himself into a state that he wasn’t consciously reacting to whatever Harry was seeing, maybe he would…fall asleep, and everything would be solved.

 

‘ _No changes yet. I tried to meditate, but I was still aware of everything. While you were sleeping, I could still hear things and feel things, even if I could not see out of your eyes.’_

 

Harry sighed. Didn’t he have enough going on without worrying about the guy who was basically possessing him? He had homework to finish, and he would have to figure out a way to get to Hogwarts at the end of the month. He didn’t know if he could tell his new fosters about the Magical world; none of his classes at Hogwarts touched on the laws when in a situation like this. It was short-sighted, in hindsight, not to have any classes for muggle-born or muggle-raised students about the rules, customs, and laws of the Wizarding world. Normally in this situation, he would ask Hermione for help, but she wasn’t answering any of his letters. He would have to figure it out on his own.

 

‘That’s okay Jon; it was a bit of long-shot anyway. Let’s go and see what we can get for breakfast, and maybe we can go to the library and get books on reincarnation and alternate realities, get some ideas about what to do next.’

 

“Harry? Are you awake?”

 

Harry got up from his bed and opened the door for Mrs. Barry. She smiled at him, lowering her hand which was curled into a fist, having been just about to knock again.

 

“Good morning Harry, I wanted to check and see if you were up and wanted breakfast. Richard went and got the rest of your things…and your feathered friend.”

 

The mention of Hedwig halted all of Harry’s thoughts. He followed quickly behind Mrs. Barry, anxious to see his first friend. Hedwig cooed at seeing her human, flapping her wings for a beat in the cage. Mr. Barry and Mrs. Barry smiled at the sight; Mr. Barry handed the cage to Harry as soon as he was close enough.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Barry; I’ve missed Hedwig so much! May I open the cage? She’s probably been stuck in there for ages; Uncle Vernon wouldn’t have gone near my room.”

 

Mr. Barry looked unsure, but his wife was quicker on the uptake. Looking surprisingly unaffected by the situation, she smiled and cheerily asked if Hedwig needed an owl stand and if so her husband could take up the stand to his room.

 

Trooping back up the stairs with his chatty friend, he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. Things might be changing, but Hedwig was a trustworthy friend, and it helped to have her with him.

 

* * *

 

“Now, love, I happened to have a look at some of the things in the trunk, and I was wondering…” Harry looked up from his eggs and toast as Mrs. Barry trailed off. After fussing over Hedwig and getting her some owl treats while Mr. Barry had set up the owl stand for Hedwig to perch on, Harry had come downstairs for the promised breakfast. Jon had been amused that his familiar was white like his dire wolf Ghost had been. It made Harry wonder if animals were reincarnated too and if Hedwig _had_ been Ghost in her past life.

 

Mrs. Barry had finished eating before Harry and was daintily sipping her breakfast tea. Mr. Barry had left for the office, letting his wife and his new ward know that he wasn’t planning on being long, only planning on taking a half day so as to get to know Harry better and to help around the house a bit. It was a nice time; for once he was eating a breakfast that he hadn’t had to cook. Mrs. Barry was a good cook; she said it was due to working in a restaurant in her late teens and early twenties as she worked to save up for school. Also, it was nice to sit with someone who didn’t resent him, and even seemed to like him; and in such a nice room too! The dining room they were eating in was warm and cozy, with paintings of landscapes and city views littered throughout the room. The mint green colour was soothing to look at, and the red oak furniture was sturdy and pretty to look at. Somehow the Barry’s had managed for the place to look tasteful and homey, the total opposite of the Dursley’s dining room was usually pristine but austere.

 

“Yes Mrs. Barry?” Harry wasn’t sure how to interpret the look on his new guardian’s face. She had just finished recounting a funny experience with her daughter when Julie had been a toddler, but the laughter was now gone from her face and looked indecisive? Wary? Confused? He just couldn’t tell.

 

She took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. “Well, I was wondering if you were a wizard? Some of those pictures in your trunk moved…”

 

Harry almost couldn’t hear anything else past the roaring in his ears. Was he going to get kicked out of the house? Muggles weren’t supposed to know about the magical world, would he get expelled for this? And to think he had been starting to feel hopeful about staying here in the Barry’s home. He could barely hear the rest of Mrs. Barry’s words, feeling somewhat dizzy and clutching at the table.

 

“…and it’s been awhile, but I remember what a wand looks like, my brother waved one around enough times.”

 

Wait. What?

 

“Your brother had a wand? He was a wizard?” He sounded winded even to himself. Was Mrs. Barry a witch?

 

“Oh dear, did I frighten you? Here, have some tea, and let’s put in a little bit more sugar; it’s good for shock you know.” She refused to say any more until Harry took a few sips of his doctored tea and ate one of the chocolate biscuits she took from the cookie jar found on the middle of the table.

 

“Where were we? Oh, yes, my brother is…or was a wizard. I’m actually not sure if he is alive or not.”

 

“Er..how come? And are you a witch? How do you know about magic?” Harry was starting to calm down; his heart wasn’t racing anymore at least. The wizarding police or whatever couldn’t arrest him for telling Mrs. Barry about the wizarding world if she already knew about it!

 

“Well, honey, I’m a squib.” At Harry’s blank look she laughed, untensing slightly at Harry’s lack of knowledge of what that meant. “It means I was born into a magical family, but I don’t have the ability to wield magic, myself.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say. If muggle-borns happened in an otherwise magic-less family, then the opposite occurring seemed to be reasonable. He had never really thought about it; he only had a year of knowing about magic under his belt!

 

“As to my brother, well, he tried to keep contact with me for awhile, but mother and father were not pleased that he was speaking to me. They cut me out of their lives as soon as I didn’t receive a Hogwarts letter. After all, I had shamed the family by being who I was.” Here Mrs. Barry’s face grew dark and her voice bitter. It was shocking to see as Harry had only seen her look cheerful and welcoming the few days he’d been here.

 

“My brother tried, but really I’m surprised he was able to speak to me for so long, with mother and father pressuring him to stop talking to me. And he was starting to spew that disgusting pureblood rhetoric as he grew older, so I, in the end, I was glad when he finally stopped talking to me. After all, there must have been something wrong with me for the Selwyn’s to produce a squib. The horror!”

 

Harry understood the bitterness. Being unwanted, even hated for something that you couldn’t change about yourself was something both Jon and he understood quite well.

 

Mrs. Barry visible shook her negative thoughts away from her. With a somewhat forced cheer, she continued to share her story. “Luckily my elderly aunt took me in. She didn’t move in magical circles anymore at that time; she lived mostly in the muggle world. And she needed someone to help her at home. So, I lived with her and I’m glad of it! Though, I didn’t really hear much about the magical world once I left it, so I don’t know what has happened to my family through the years.”

 

Mrs. Barry suddenly stood from the table, waving her hand to indicate that Harry should continue to sit. She came back with a plate full of cut up fruit and a few more biscuits. She also had a notebook and a pen with her. She placed the fruit in front of him, taking a seat back at the table.

 

“You still look peaky, eat a bit more dear. Well, that’s that. I thought you might be a muggle-born possibly, with that trunk of yours. People normally use suitcases here, and trunks might be traditional, but they are also somewhat old-fashioned in this time.  Since you are magical then we will have to make sure your guardianship is transferred to us legally in that world as well. It shouldn’t be too difficult to prove that your past guardians, both in the regular world and the magical world were neglectful; we know why the Dursley’s are, but if your magical guardian was keeping an eye on you they would have been here much sooner. Let’s make some lists and figure out a time soon that we can go and figure all of this out. You’re still recovering and I don’t want to rush your recovery.”

 

As Harry contemplated that thought and the idea that he even had a magical guardian, Mrs. Barry laid her notebook just so before opening the book to a crisp new page, ready to be written on. He still felt somewhat weak; his hands had only just stopped shaking. Here he had thought he was the only one with a big secret, but it looked like Mrs. Barry had been carrying one for longer than he’d been alive! Living with the Barry’s was turning out to be an adventure for sure.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not from England (totes Canadian here), and I was a little kid at the beginning of the 90s, so I did some research into what social services would look like in the early 90s in England. I went down a rabbit hole with that one, lots of very interesting cases. I also looked into signs of a concussion and how to treat it, since I'm not a doctor or a med student, so please excuse anything that is not correct. I chose this hospital because of reasons (totally random, it was the first hospital to show up as government funded in London when I googled it.) Honestly, he probably would have gone to a hospital closer to wherever Little Whining is based in geographically, as he doesn't actually live in London, but we are handwaving that and it is more convenient to have him in London for now. The further away from the Dursley's the better!
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys think of this starting chapter, it has been a while since I've written anything story-like. Also, I would like to point out now that I've never read the ASOIAF series, I now no longer have the attention span to start reading that big ass series now. Fanfics have also ruined me. So the wiki will be super helpful but most of the characterizations of the ASOIAF characters will be from the show, except, of course, the characters that are only in the book.


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